


the dragon and the wolf

by kakashihatake123



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Season Seven spoilers, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-22 16:52:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11971593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kakashihatake123/pseuds/kakashihatake123
Summary: Jon’s hand curled around her neck, turning her head so that he could press his lips against hers. The clumsiness that had once engulfed them fell away, leaving room for the desperation they had so long felt, but never acted upon. His hand pushed against the flat of her back, feeling her skin warm even through the pressed linen gown. His free hand rose so that his callused fingers could skate along the proffered curve of her neck that had come free as her dress shifted.





	the dragon and the wolf

He was a fool. To stand before the door, his hand half cocked to knock, shifting on his booted feet and hoping that the creaking of the wooden floors beneath him cannot be heard. The seas are uneasy, the ship swaying like a bottle caught in a current. The hand he had reached out to grip the elaborately carved bannister was holding so tight that his knuckles were blotched white. He is a fool and he knows it. But that does not stop him from knocking.

At first there was confusion in her violet eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, to ask why he was calling upon her at such a late hour. She had long ago retired, her deft fingers working to undo the plaits that had laid along the silver of her hair, letting it flow freely down her back in weak curls. Her eyes were tired, widening as she saw him.

Jon frowned, his hands tightened to fists at his sides. He opened his mouth to speak and at once felt incredibly foolish. He had crossed the ship to find her chamber and built up the courage to knock. And yet as she stood before him, brows slightly furrowed, awaiting whatever words he would speak- he found he had none.

Daenerys looked back at him. It was the first time he had seen her hair unbraided, the intricate plaits that usually stood out against the silver of her hair now unbound. It swayed across her back as she moved, looking white as moonlight and soft as raw silk. At once her expression softened, giving way to understanding, and she stepped aside to allow him to pass.

Her chamber was filled with the darkness that slanted in from the small square windows high upon the wooden walls of the ship’s chamber. A few candles had been lit and set in their chambersticks, the flickering yellow light that passed across her face making her hair look like woven gold.

At first the apartment had seemed so large, well furnished for a ship so small in stature, but as she turned to close the door behind him, turning so that her back was pressed flat to the jamb, it seemed that the chamber had shrunk smaller than a cellar.

“May I offer some wine?” she asked softly. It was the remnants of the cache of Dornish wine Ellaria had brought as a gift for Dany, so sweet and well-spiced that it made the mild mead Jon had shared with his brothers at the wall seemed as tasteless as water.

“Aye.” he agreed, surprised by the hoarseness of his own voice.

Jon followed her movements. The boots she had removed earlier left her feet cushioned with pretty silk slippers that shuffled as she crossed the room. The gown she wore swayed around her legs with every movement, the crimson fabric seeming dark as blood. He felt like a green boy as he watched her move, finding even the way she lifted the carafe and poured rapturous.

Dany watched his throat bob as he swallowed, the way his fingers twitched and brushed the dirt from his breeches, and how he shifted uncomfortably on the balls of his feet.

“Have you something on your mind?” she asked. Jon frowned, knowing the thoughts filling his mind were those he did not wish to share Her eyes were searching his face, his body growing hotter under their scrutiny. “Pressing matters, perhaps?”

When he did not respond she turned away, her back to him, his hand frozen as it made to reach for the cold metal of the copper doorknob. He knew he should turn, should stride from the chamber and not return until the thoughts had less to do with the softness of her smile and more to do with the harshness of Queen Cersei’s reign. But he could not bear to turn away from her.

“Jon?” she breathed, trepidatious. Her voice was nearly as strident as his own. He could not see her face, wondering what her expression must look. He knew at once that they were both afraid to say too much.

“Is something wrong?” he questioned. His hands had balled into fists, so tight that his blunted nails dug into the skin of his burned hand.

She gave a short laugh, her voice a whisper so low he could barely hear it. “Don’t you know?”

“Yes-“ said he. His voice was as hesitant as hers had been. His tongue reached out to brush nervously across his bottom lip, his throat working. “Yes.”

Jon’s hand curled around her neck, turning her head so that he could press his lips against hers. The clumsiness that had once engulfed them fell away, leaving room for the desperation they had so long felt, but never acted upon. His hand pushed against the flat of her back, feeling her skin warm even through the pressed linen gown. His free hand rose so that his callused fingers could skate along the proffered curve of her neck that had come free as her dress shifted.

Her throat worked, her breath quickening as he touched her. Hot whips of panic lashed at him, so completely aware of how close they were standing, of the way his hips pressed to her back so tightly that she could feel the point of his scabbard and something else long but not quite as sharp.

Gathering her resolve she turned in his arms, reaching for him, her fingers tightening in the lapels of his jerkin. Her violet eyes turned across his fave, absorbing every detail she had once been too far to see. The scars across his face, the turn of hip, the scarred patch of skin beneath his jaw where no hair grew.

Overcoming the hesitancy on his face Jon claimed her lips once more. She could feel the dull scratch of his beard, the scrape of unshorn hair against her own soft skin, paying no mind to the redness it would surely leave in its wake. His mouth was deft on her own, talented and tasting sweet as Dornish red. His hand pressed to her lower back, holding her tight, the other reaching up to brush a strand of silver hair from her eyes.

She broke away from him, breathless and panting. His eyes sought her own, the slight redness of his lips from their kiss more enticing than she could have thought. She was a fool to waste a single moment in this world without his lips on hers.

Beneath his hands the laces that curved across the back of her gown gave easily, the swiftness of his fingers making him feel half god, half fool. The fabric parted to reveal her skin pale as fresh milk, the soft array of freckles that nestled across her shoulders pretty as stars. They felt hot beneath the touch of his lips.

The gown spilled at her ankles, the discarded fabric leaving her in nothing but a thin shift, the shimmering silk doing little to hide what lay beneath. Her lips parted, gooseflesh peppering across her skin in response to the heat of his touch..

His mouth lowered to her bare shoulder, where the strap of her shift had fallen, his lips tracing the swell of exposed skin as it led to her breast. Her pink nipples had pebbled in the cool night air, Jon paying each special favour to each in turn. He could feel her shiver in response, her lips parted by an escaping sigh.

Her fingers pulled at the laces of his black jerkin, pulling the boiled leather until it was free from his body. He took a sharp breath, reaching to still her hands. A look of confusion flickered across her face before her violet eyes lowered to follow the line of his gaze, her brows lifting in understanding.

His belly was dimpled with the hoary white mark of scarred flesh. His face reddened as her gaze turned upon them, her eyes finding the jagged, silvery skin that had yet to heal from the night his brother’s knives had claimed his last breath. He had not known the gaze of a woman since. Not since steel had bit into muscle and flesh and left nothing behind but ugly, marred skin.

Daenerys lowered gracefully to her knees, her face on level with the half unlaced breeches that hung low on his exposed hips. Her light eyes met his, bearing a mix of shadows and barely restrained lust. He could feel his cock stiffen in response.

Jon flinched involuntarily as he felt her lips press to his skin. Her breath was hot on his bare flesh, her lips soft and supple as they brushed across each shining scar, so cloyingly slow that his stomach trembled. Every patch of skin that had been adorned with scars was paid special attention, from the silver slice across his hip to the uneven gash at the base of his breast.

He lifted Dany to her knees and took her face in his hands, his kiss warm and wild, paired with the wild fingers that pulled and unlaced and unhooked until they stood before each other as naked as when they had been brought into this world.

Jon stumbled backward, guided to the featherbed by Dany’s gentle hand. Her touch were intoxicating- the way her mouth left a trail of kisses across his jaw and down his chest making him gasp for air. She lifted her head to whisper against the shell of his ear, the scent of the perfumed oils that had been combed through her hair making his head feel light. Her breath was hot against the column of his neck, her words rushing straight to his cock.

In the darkness he rolled her onto her back, his hands lifted her hips and guiding her legs apart. The throbbing below his waist doubled at the feel of wetness gathered between her thighs. Dany gasped when he pushed into her, making him freeze for a moment as he tried to distinguish between the sounds of pain and pleasure. His face fell to rest in the crook of her neck, a groan tearing him through so low it was nearly a growl.

With one arm he held his own weight, trying to find the tender balance between caressing her body and crushing it. He brushed a strand of hair from where it had fallen into her face, freeing her eyes to lock once more upon his own, amethyst upon obsidian. Jon lowered his head to catch her exposed nipple between his lips, his tongue swirling around the soft, pink flesh in such a way as to make her whimper.

As though deciding he was moving too slow Dany arched her back, engulfing him completely against the curve of her body. Her leg raised to hook over his hip, hitching herself upwards so that it was easy to match the agonisingly slow pace he had set. He choked out a moan, so loud he was sure it could be heard from the other side of the ship, and Dany’s eyes shone challengingly.

The chamber had filled with the crisp, salty sea air that had filtered in through the open port window, mingling with the scent of her sweet skin to make him feel almost stupefied. Her nails dug into the flesh of his shoulders as he rocked forward, the biting sharpness doing little to draw him away from the reverie that was her touch, her taste, her smell.

Her slender fingers pushed through his dark curls, tugging absently as his mouth moved against her neck. Her body shifted and undulated against his, her bare breasts pressed to his chest as her legs looped across his hips like a loosened belt.

His chest heaved with the breath he tried to take in. Sweat beaded at her brow and made her skin glow like alabaster in the candlelight, her nerves singing at the pleasure of his touch. She could feel him moving against her, the dull grind of his hips against hers making him whisper a string of curses against the hollow of her ear.

Her hands migrated to press against the back of his hips, arching her back to allow him to push even further forward. The heat of her touch made him feel as though he had being singed by a snap of flame.

Jon collapsed halfway against the curve between her neck and shoulder, his arms trembling with the effort of his restraint. She could feel the taut pull of muscle against her chest, her cheeks burnishing as she realised he must be close to his peak, the way he gasped seeming almost pained. He could feel the ripple of pleasure swell within him, sweeping from toe to head before simmering back down at his waist.

Every fibre in his body had tightened to the point that it felt as though he might snap, drawn like a bowstring that had been forced too tight. Yet he held himself back, away from the burgeoning peak his body so clearly sought. Jon tried to move away, to force himself away from the rutting of her hips.

“Jon.” Dany whispered. She pulled him toward her, feeling every bit of his aching cock against her. It felt as though years had passed since she had been held so closely, the rigidity of Jon’s body like a stone statue that had been carved against hers. The biting sharpness of her nails into his flesh brought him back to attention. “I want you.”

Jon could only nod, sure that if he were respond his words would be no more than an incoherent jumble of syllables. Her stomach tightened as he pushed forward again, the heat between their bodies seeing to grow by the second.

Daenerys’ lips were hungry, leaving a path of warm, wet marks across his neck. She could feel the coil of redolent heat that twisted through her belly, her breath hitching and cheeks burning. Jon looked down at her, finding her hair white as moonglow in the darkness, a perfect juxtaposition to the bright tint of her cheeks.

His name tumbled from her lips as she fell headlong into the throes of pleasure. The contraction of her body against his left him rigid and gasping as his own orgasm tumbled through him. He choked out a strangled gasp, so deep and rough against her ear that it seemed to pierce right through her.

For a moment they were still, a mess of panting breaths and heaving chests as they tried to regain the normalcy of their breath. Dany was nearly too embarrassed to meet his eye, finding interest in the mess of bedsheets they had made, until she felt his lips once more on hers. They were gentle, a grand difference from the wild kisses they had shared mere moments ago, moving so slow and deliberate against hers that she felt her mouth respond in kind.

Jon laid back against his pillows, attempting to catch his breath before Dany could lay her head against his chest. Against her offered ear Daenerys could hear his heart beat faint and quick, the motion of the rise and fall of his chest lulling her into a half sleep, fatigue written across her face as plain as the pink of her cheeks.

The moonlight that fell in through the port windows had not lessened, the quiet of the night stretching through the chamber and engulfing them in silence so deep, not even the sound of crashing waved dared sneak through.

Dany blinked back fatigue through half-lidded eyes, the gleaming moonlight dancing off her naked skin as Jon laid the furs over their bodies. “Sleep now, my love.” Jon whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple. She smiled weakly at the tickle of his unshorn beard, seeming to mull the words over in her mind before humming softly in agreement and letting her half lidded eyes close.

“Stay with me.” she whispered.

Jon opened his mouth to respond but found the need to speak unnecessary, knowing there was not a force in Westeros that could tear him from her arms. Instead he pressed a kiss to her tired brow and conceded the fight between he and his fatigue, allowing himself go be pulled into a long and easy sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> this is pretty much what i wished boatsex _had_ been


End file.
